


This time will be different

by FoxesOwlsandBumblebees



Series: Thoschei One Shots [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Minor Violence, Slight Description of Injury, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Uses They/Them Pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxesOwlsandBumblebees/pseuds/FoxesOwlsandBumblebees
Summary: Vaguely inspired by the prompt 'your hair is so soft', the Doctor and the Master form a spiderweb-thin alliance that lasts all of two weeks when they're left alone with each other
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Twelfth Doctor/Missy, Twelfth Doctor/The Master (Simm)
Series: Thoschei One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022494
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	This time will be different

**Author's Note:**

> So when I rewatched The Doctor Falls, I realised that the Doctor seems quite warily optimistic when the Master comes to greet them and Bill. It’s almost like something happened within those two weeks of time skipping that made the Doctor think he was redeemable...

**Warning:**  
**This involves some fairly abusive themes, involving a hit and then a kiss as well as verbal abuse. It isn’t nice, to say the least, so if you want to skip this one, that is absolutely fine by me. It does end hopefully, but a lot of it isn’t very nice.**  
**This is heavy angst with mild violence and slight hurt/comfort.**  
**If you don’t like that, please don’t read and find yourself something that isn’t Twelve/Simm!Master.**  
**Or a human au. Either work.**

The Doctor pulls their head up. It feels fuzzy. They’re vaguely aware of being horizontal. Lying down. On a bed, they think.

(They? Maybe they. Maybe she. That was almost right. Not quite though. They’d stick with ‘they’.) Dizzy. They’re dizzy.

Thinking is making them dizzy.

Flashes of what has happened come back to them in waves and they gasp as the memories begin to wash over them.

Bill is a Cyberman.

Missy wasn’t to be trusted.

The Master, the suited terror of a Master, is back.

The Cybermen are going to take over this community of people.

Bill is a  _ Cyberman. _

They’re vaguely aware of a few voices. They can make out a higher-pitched Scottish accent and a lower English one arguing loudly next to them. They force themself to open their eyes and instantly regret it.

The pain, the anger of seeing what happened to Bill is personified in the Master.

And Missy has taken his side.

When the worst of the dizziness subsides, they let themself tune into Missy and the Master's conversation. They push themself up when they hear their presence being acknowledged.

Words come to their mouth and they’re about to speak when another wave of vertigo hits them, worse than before. The world lurches and a hand pushes them back down “No no no. None of that. You’ll faint again and none of us wants that to happen.”

It’s the Master. He pulls his hand away as though it physically hurts him to touch them and returns to Missy.

As much as his touch hurt, it hurts a lot more to feel it go.

Their throat is unbearably sore, but they force out the words even so “Not even… not even you?”

The Master rolls his eyes “No. Not even me. Especially since I wasn’t the cause of it, was I?”

The Doctor shivers. He’s right. Neither of the Masters (Master? Masters? Neither the Master nor Missy? They’ll figure out the semantics later) had caused their impending death. They’d internally dealt their final blow.

Their way of defeating them was suicide. 

“You were...” they take a breath. Talking’s hard. They take another couple of breaths, despite feeling their weakened lungs protest at the intakes and restart the sentence “Not long ago, you wanted to kill me. What happened?”

“What always happens,” Missy says quietly. The Master doesn’t react and Missy rolls her eyes “You reach almost death’s doorstep and we change our mind about killing you. It’s always going to happen. Not even he could do it.”

They’re about to make another adrenaline-fuelled comment, but her words sink in and they’re silenced.

When Missy realises that they’re not going to speak any more, she turns back to the Master and the Doctor mentally assesses their injuries.

Pain.

It’s mostly pain.

They can deal with that.

Their legs are heavy and they can’t seem to move them. Their chest feels crushed and they can’t tell whether it’s the mental pressure they’ve again placed on themself or whether they’ve punctured a lung. There's a definite injury on their head. Their right hand is at least fractured. Possibly broken. They realise this as they reach up to press against their hearts. The beat seems fairly regular.

The essential suicide had worked.

They shake their head mentally. _It wasn’t a suicide. It was a way to stop the Master. And it worked._

Albeit with some pretty major consequences.

They toy with the idea of regeneration and then quickly suppress it. That’s a whole can of worms they don’t want to open, but essentially, regeneration is currently out of the question.

Another thought hits them as they consider. Missy's words. A confirmation that she hadn't completely abandoned them.

"I was secretly on your side the whole time."

Was that true?

They don't realise they're rubbing awkwardly at their head injury until they feel another hand on them.

They can tell from the heavy signet ring that it's the Master's.

He goes about whatever it is he's doing quickly. He's not healing them; they'd be able to tell if he was, but he is at least prodding their head.

It's surprisingly relaxing.

They wish it wasn't. They wish it was painful.

But it's not. It's soft and gentle and the Master's hands move as slowly as they can.

The words that leave his mouth as he loses himself in going through their curls need to be heard to be believed. “Your hair is so soft.”

What? 

The Doctor blinks. They look up at him, tilting their head ever so slightly “Um- what did you say?”

The Master gives an exasperated snort as though he hadn’t said what he’d said.  Well, it's supposed to be exasperated. It comes across as embarassed: “I said fuck off!”

“That doesn’t really work when you’re the one who spoke, dearie.” Missy’s voice comes from the doorway and the Doctor relaxes slightly. Her words on the rooftop had been comforting (though whether they were true was yet to be seen) and they can’t stop themself from smiling slightly at her presence.

Despite all that she’s done, they can’t help but still see her as (at the very least) a good friend.

They hear a snort from above them. The Master's hands disappear from their head and he makes a hasty retreat back to the door.

The Doctor wishes that he'd just sit down. All the movement is giving them vertigo.

His angered expression makes no sense to the Doctor's addled brain until it suddenly comes to them.

The reason why he's returned to scowling in the corner.

“You didn’t honestly think that giving me a compliment would reverse any of my opinions on you, did you?”

The Doctor is still absolutely awful at facial expressions, but even they can tell that the Master’s expression conveys a very sheepish ‘...yes’.

They roll their eyes as he voices the thoughts aloud “You know how I feel about your human pets. Even you exchange them once every few years for a newer model. I was just hurrying it along.”

The Doctor reaches up to run their hands through their hair in a vague repeat of the Master's actions.  They used their right hand. _Shit_. The pain rushes through them as they draw it away gingerly. “Humans aren’t iPhones.”

“The fuck is an iPhone?!”

They settle him with a glare and the Master sighs “It’s always going to be like this.”

They drop their head back against the pillow. The world is spinning far too much for them to even consider lifting it again at this point “Like what?”

“This! Your stupid moral message that you assume we care about! It’s a bloody wonder lady version could stand you! All your harping on about humans and the greater good while at the end of the day they’re idiots with monkey brains!”

The Doctor chooses not to comment. They’d save their anger up for a later point when they could shout at him properly. Just not right now. They close their eyes.

When they open them again, they flinch at a touch to their damaged right hand, only stopping when they meet Missy’s eyes. They wish it was Nardole, but beggars and choosers and all that.

“You don’t wish it was that egg over me?!”

“Get out of my head.”

“I can’t help it when you insist on thinking so loudly.”

The Doctor smiles softly at her words. When they speak, the words feel heavy “Did you mean what you said?” She hesitates in her wrapping of their hand but continues like she didn’t “Being on my side and everything?”

She looks at them for a long moment, an almost pitiful look in her eyes “Choosing you over me is hard. Don’t be too surprised if you learn it was all for show.”

They sigh, but they can’t help but feel proud of her honesty. It’s a refreshing change from all the blatant lies. “Thank you for your honesty.”

She gives an empty smile “Any hope of convincing me lies with...” a look of confusion passes over her pretty face “Me. Other me.”

Their head hurts. The pain must show on their face, as she lifts their injured hand to her lips and kisses it “Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time I’ll make the right choice.”

They let their left hand reach over to stroke her face. She leans into it.

She stays until they lose consciousness

-

The Doctor isn’t sure how long they’ve been out for when they come to. Missy’s words echo in their mind and they smile at the memory. They lift their bandaged hand and it’s stained with purple lipstick. They smile fondly, remembering her gentle touch and their left-hand goes to stroke it. They have every faith in Missy to come around. Her kiss was a declaration.

A gesture of love.

And any man knows that love is a promise.

A guffaw of laughter comes from the doorway and the Doctor feels the anger begin to build up again. There’s only so far Missy’s words can be a comfort.

And dealing with her predecessor is way past that line.

The Master is standing near the door with his legs crossed at the ankles. His telepathy has always been much better than the Doctor’s, and they can already tell he’s sniggering at their thoughts. They drop their hands back down to their sides and push themself up. It’s hard doing it while using just one side as leverage, but their head eventually comes to rest on the headboard. They look over properly to see that despite the giggles, the Master’s expression is stormy. Eventually, the laughter stops.

There’s a tense silence.

The Doctor’s ready to break it when the Master speaks “You like her more than me.”

The Doctor is past the point of being nice to him so just goes with their gut. It comes out sarcastic. Good. “Whatever gives you that idea?!”

The Doctor has been keeping an eye on the Master’s hate-filled expression, so his chuckle comes as a surprise “Is it because she’s...” he practically spits the word out “ _ Good _ ? ** ” **

“She’s not completely good. She just knows she has the potential to be good.”

“And I don’t have that potential?”

The Doctor rolls their eyes again. Missy’s words still feel fresh in their head but they can’t bring themself to act upon them.

Provoking the Master comes far more easily “Exhibit a. Bill Potts.”

The Master comes in the room properly just so the Doctor can get the full force of his ire “Yes, but that was over in a matter of bloody  _ minutes _ for you, wasn’t it? Tell me, Doctor, if your bloody mind had been working as fast as it usually does, **** and you'd researched this bloody place instead of letting lady version take over, would you have remembered the simple fact of how black holes affect time?! But honestly, you didn’t care about tin can girl, did you? You keep telling yourself you do, but if you’d cared, you’d have followed her down and stopped the conversion yourself. Or are you too bloody pathetic to even consider that?”

The Doctor forces themself onto their feet to lunge at him, but the Master grabs them before they can and drags them bodily back to the bed. He holds them down with a single hand to the chest and hisses in their face “Bill Potts was born to die. It’s in human’s stupid nature. I was just helping the process along.”

None of the words in any human language can express the visceral hatred the Doctor feels towards the Master at this point.

A particularly vicious Gallifreyan slur does the job pretty nicely though.

It causes the Master’s eyebrows to shoot up “Now darling, I didn’t think you were capable of such foul language. Especially not while defending humans. Pig headed, stupid, empty brained, pointless humans.”

“Volcano...” they hear Missy say in a sing-song voice.

They can’t hear her properly. It’s like her voice comes from underwater while they’re far above the surface. They’re riding on a pure adrenaline kick when they find the energy to punch the Master square in the face.

Come to think of it, Missy hasn’t been back since fixing their hand...

Instead of convincing him to do anything, the Master just laughs and rubs his hand over his mouth. It comes away slightly bloodied “Didn’t think you had the energy for something like that.”

The Doctor shrugs, their expression hopefully mirroring the Master’s earlier one.

The Master grins.

Instead of doing something in any way sane, he instead grabs the Doctor’s lapels and kisses them.

It’s a long kiss.

And not a particularly nice one. They can taste blood in their mouth and they’re not sure whether it’s theirs or the Master’s.

The Doctor pants the second the Master lets go of them, falling back against the bed heavily. It’s painful, a dull echo in the back of their mind tells them, but they can barely hear it from the pounding of their hearts. “You’re fucking sick.”

“We’re both sick. It’s how this works.” He doesn’t say it, thank god. Hopefully, the Master doesn’t notice just how sick the Doctor is.

The fact that the Master enjoyed it is bad enough.

The fact that the Doctor did too...

Well.

That’s something that’s better left unsaid.

“Look at her,” the Master pulls the Doctor up and steadies them against the headboard. He points at the window. Missy has left and she’s currently careening around excitedly, twirling her skirts and twisting her umbrella like it’s a baton.

The Doctor can’t help but admit that they find it very cute.

“She’s where it would be if everything was sunshine and roses. You’d be all rainbows and happiness and live in a cottage with a picket fence and have a fluffy cat named Arthur and it would all be really fucking nice. But instead, in-fucking-stead you’re stuck with me as well. And according to the words in your head that you’re not voicing aloud; I’m too fucking sick to deal with properly. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” The Master clearly wasn’t expecting a response. His eyes go all buggy in his round face. “You are right. Because I don’t understand you. None of you makes sense. Not you, not her, not…”

“Do you fuck her?”

The Doctor could lie and say they weren’t expecting the question.

Or they could tell the truth and accept the inevitability of it.

Either way, the Master laughs “No, sorry, I bet you  _ make love _ to her, don’t you?” He speaks with heavy sarcasm, but the Doctor understands his language by now.

He’s not sarcastic because he finds it absurd.

He’s sarcastic because he’s  _ jealous _ .

Of the Doctor or Missy, that’s not quite clear, but it’s distinctly jealousy.

“I bet it’s all loving and caring and you kiss her and it’s all very  _ nice _ .”

It’s bitterness in his tone, the Doctor realises. Pure bitterness.

And the Doctor isn’t sure whether they want to provoke it and watch the Master burn or stand back and see the fire go out.

“It’s great thanks.”

They always were a masochist.

The Master, for once, reacts as expected. He jumps on them, straddling their hips and he’s heavy and it hurts.

And it’s wonderful.

They’re expecting the kiss this time. They’re able to react in the way they couldn’t last time.

But the Master’s erratic mind doesn’t make it horrible and painful and everything the Doctor can’t help but want.

He makes it kind.

Soft.

Passionate.

No biting, no bruised lips.

Just gentleness.

The Doctor _hates_ it.

They’re so ready for the attack that when the Master speaks, again, they’re completely winded.

He presses his forehead gently against theirs and speaks softly “Is that what it’s like?”

The Doctor closes their eyes and nods once.

The Master leans in to kiss them again and smiles against their lips “Well it’s not very good, is it?”

The Doctor smiles. They shake their head.

The Master’s hand reaches their hair and tugs on it once “You always did like it rough, Theta.”

He jumps up and the Doctor gasps as the pressure disappears from their waist. They’re half expecting him to do something horrible but the other half has no idea what to expect.

The Master waltzes towards the door and goes to give the handle a turn. He grins back at the Doctor “See you around.”

The door doesn’t open.

The Doctor can see the Master’s eyebrows quirk. He jiggles the handle.

He turns back around to face the Doctor. The sheepish expression has returned “It won’t open.”

The Doctor runs their hand through their hair. Again, they use the wrong hand. It causes a twinge of pain to go through them “She locked us in.”

The Doctor coughs out a laugh. It’s ridiculous.

Their laugh, however, manages to break the tension. The Master’s mouth quirks up into a grin and he laughs with them.

They don’t know how long it goes on for.

-

They've been locked in the room for about a day.

Maybe a week.

The Doctor's time awareness has been particularly hazy.

But things have changed.  Despite everything that’s happened, the Master is docile. He traces his hands through the Doctor’s hair, following the curls for hours.

One day, the Doctor’s head slid into his lap.

The Master didn’t comment.

He stayed out of their head. The politeness is not lost on the Doctor. The Master knows that the Doctor is too weak to push him out if he wanted to explore, but he doesn’t.

It’s kind.

The Doctor is not wary.

But then, one day, one awful day, he asks the dreaded question

“When Missy and I get my TARDIS... will you come with us?”

They’d prepared themself for this question.

At least they thought they had.

They close their eyes slowly and the Master keeps talking “It’s not like you’ve got anything here. Whatever that bald thing is can take care of the kids or whatever it is you’re trying to do. And you can just let the tin can in the barn rust.” His arm moves to reach around their waist and although it hurts, they know it’s meant as a comforting aid. “If you come with me, I can get you back to your TARDIS. Or,” he reaches over to tilt their head up to meet his dark eyes. “We can see the stars together.”

They let out an involuntary whimper.

The smile the Master gives them in return isn’t completely feral. It’s almost...

Kind.

It’s physically painful to force the words out, but they do it anyway “I can’t do that. I need to help them.”

“It’s a suicide mission-“

“Then help me!”

“Then you’re just dragging me into the suicide. Grabbing me while we run headfirst into an explosion. It’s a stupid stupid idea.”

He’s right. It hurts their hearts but he is right.

“I’d do it for you.”

The words are out before they can stop them. The Master seems unfazed, but his hand shakes a little as he traces their hair.

“Yes, I think you probably would.”

They close their eyes and lean back against the Master and he continues to trace their curls “I wasn’t lying.”

“What?” They force their eyes open to watch the Master’s distant expression.

A shutter comes down over the Master’s eyes and he smiles “Your hair. It’s soft.”

The Doctor sighs. They don't know what they were expecting.

They hear a dull clunk against the headboard and they open their eyes again. The Master’s hand has frozen in their hair. He’s considering something, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“If you...” the Doctor looks up at the Master and he grits his teeth. Whatever decision he’s making is clearly very difficult. The hand not in their hair reaches down to their uninjured left hand “If you bloody insist on helping these idiots, let me at least help you a little.”

Before the Doctor can say anything, the Master tightens his grip, closing his eyes and then, miraculously, golden regenerative energy seeps from his hands. The Doctor feels their eyes widen as they feel their lungs knitting themselves back together, their ribs cracking back into place and energy heading straight to their legs.

They feel... reinvigorated.

They stare up at the Master, conveying as much gratitude as they can into their expression “Thank you.”

He gives them a brief smile and pokes their right hand “I’m not made of regeneration energy, you know. So I’m just giving you enough to get by.” He furrows his brow “Though why you’re not regenerating is a question in itself..”

They’re about to lean forward to kiss him again when the door opens with a bang. Missy strolls through, spinning her umbrella and the Master springs away from the Doctor as though they’re made of fire.

Based on how much their cheeks are burning, they can only assume that it’s an accurate assessment.

Missy stares at them as the Doctor sits up and the Master makes his way over to greet her “Oh. You two are still here.”

The Master narrows his eyes, instantly back to his volatile, snappy self.

The Doctor can’t help but consider that it’s an act.

“You locked the door.”

Missy rolls her eyes, sighing at the two of them “Do you own a door opening device or do you not?!”

The Doctor frowns and then slowly reaches into their trouser pocket to pull out their sonic.

They remember. They put it there when the Master knocked them out. Just in case they couldn’t reach their coat pocket...

The Doctor meets the Master's eyes as they watch him pull his own out of his pocket. They share a bemused look.

Missy rolls her eyes again and kicks the door open fully “Doctor, the egg and the tin can are asking for you. Kiss your boyfriend goodnight and come and join us.”

She sounds as bored as before, but there’s a slight smile on her face.

Things will be different.

Maybe things already are.

She meets the Doctor’s eyes, nodding once and then the expression drops. She turns in a flourish and then she’s gone.

The Doctor’s vision lingers on her retreating back before glancing back up to the Master. He looks away suddenly as though he’s been staring at them the whole time.

Interesting.

The Master speaks in a rush, moving to the door as quickly as he can. He seems embarrassed “Right then I’m out! Desperate for a piss.”

The Doctor stands and grabs his arm. They can feel more than express the anguish on their face “Please. Think about what I said.”

They expect his mouth to twist up into a sneer but instead, he gives the slightest of smiles.

They should stop underestimating this version of the Master.

A ghost of the kindness he’d shown them mere minutes before has made a reappearance. “I’ll think about it.”

They nod, a slight smile on their face. They push past him to make their way down the stairs, a feat previously impossible now seeming slightly easier. Their lungs still burn and their hand aches, but their legs feel strong and their head is clear for the first time in what feels like months.

The heaviness of the past few days begins to weigh on them as they make their way out of the door and over to the barn.

They can do it.

They can reverse this and make everything okay or die trying.

And hopefully, as Missy said, this time will be different.

**Author's Note:**

> The Doctor gets shot by a Cyberman twice without regenerating. Either Twelve’s body is stronger than it looks, the Cybermen are weak bitches or the Master had a slight change of heart.  
> For the sake of my aching Thoschei heart, my money’s on the latter.


End file.
